


Glass Half Shattered

by SebastianGrace



Category: Original Work
Genre: Depression, Gen, Suicide, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-21 10:59:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9545471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SebastianGrace/pseuds/SebastianGrace
Summary: A year after her brother's death, a girl revisits memories of him and faces her own emotions.





	

It had been a while since she had last come here. The memory of his death had been too much to bear. Now she gazes down at her hands, feeling once again their perpetual uselessness. Looking back up at the nondescript wooden door, she steels herself with a breath and turns the brass knob. There is a pause of uncertainty before the door slowly swings open. The space before her looms darkly, inviting her in. Paralyzing fear fills her whole being, and she freezes in place, staring into the never-ending darkness. She can still see his body swinging before her. Tears well in her eyes as emotions flood through her, unbidden. Her throat tightens and her chest feels heavy, but her legs seem to move automatically as she steps into the blackness of the closet and shuts the door. Her sobs come suddenly and violently, and she sinks to the floor and wraps her arms around her knees. Fear, sadness, loneliness, hopelessness wash over her as she sits, sobbing in the darkness and reliving the memories. Her hand clutches at the pendant around her neck, the point of the gold heart digging into her palm. She doesn't mind; it's nothing compared to her crushing sorrow. She squeezes it tighter.

 

She can't remember when they first moved to their house, but she could remember the months that came afterward. Even after her family had lived in the neighborhood for some time, she hadn't had any friends, being that she was homeschooled. Her days had been lonely, filled with nothing but schoolwork and listening to her mother teach while her brother went off to public school. Her brother noticed this, however, and soon it became a ritual for her brother to come home from school, ruffle her hair, and sit down to play games with her. Sometimes he would go out with his school friends, but he usually liked to stay in and tell jokes.

 

It didn't take long for the two to become best friends. They went out for walks when it was nice, crunching leaves in the autumn and picking flowers in the spring. He would lend her his coat when it was cold, and she would snuggle down into its warmth, wrinkling her nose when he laughed. Even though they were in high school, they would still settle down together and make macaroni art and finger paint, laughing after they were both coated head to toe in glitter. She looked up to him, and there was nothing better in the world to cheer her up than to see his smile and hear his laughter. It always wrapped her in a kind of warmth that was inexplicable and washed over her until she was full to bursting. It was difficult to stay mad when you were so happy.

The two siblings often had sleepovers in each other's rooms, where they would make a blanket fort and light it with a flashlight, staying up until she inevitably fell asleep, no matter how determined she was to stay awake all night. It was on one of these nights, as he laid with his hands under his head and looked out at the starry summer sky and she dozed next to him, that he suddenly sat up, startling her awake.

Rubbing her eyes, she asked blearily, "Hey, what's the matter? Are you okay?"

He looked at her earnestly, pausing to take a breath before saying, "Hey, you know I love you, right? And I would never do anything to hurt you?"

She sat up, knitting her brows in worry.

"Yeah?" she said slowly, a knot forming in her stomach. "Why?"

The moonlight shone against his face, lighting up his eyes as he looked deep into hers, searching for something unknown. "It's just really important that you know that, no matter what. I will always be here for you."

Something was very wrong. "Of course I know that. Why are you saying that? Is everything okay?"

Time stood still as they looked at one another for what seemed like an eternity before he let out a breath that was more like a laugh. Dropping his eyes, he ran his hand through his pale blonde hair.

"Sorry," he said, smiling, looking at the ground. "I guess I'm just feeling a bit sentimental."

Gently, she wrapped her arms around him. Hesitantly, he did the same. As they stayed in that embrace, his worries seemed to melt away until he was himself again. Breaking the contact, they smiled at each other, she with reassurance and he with gratitude.

With the matter resolved, she curled up next to him and he pulled up the blanket around her shoulders. In the haze between awake and asleep, she saw the smile slip from her brother's face as he once again looked out at the stars.

She could remember with perfect clarity every detail about the day he broke his promise. It was a Saturday. Her brother had promised to take her ice skating, something she hadn't done since she was little. It was her birthday soon. As soon as it was a decent hour, she had rolled out of bed and thrown on her cutest outfit: a pleated skirt, white boots, and a woolen sweater with a kitten on it. She loved that sweater. Looking in the mirror, she shot herself the biggest, most sincere smile she had ever conjured in her life. After clasping on her golden necklace, she flounced out the door and down the stairs. Reaching the kitchen, she saw her parents, but her brother was nowhere to be found.

"Mom?" she had called, confusion on her face. "Where...?"

She hadn't needed to finish the question; her mother knew what she was going to ask.

"Check his bedroom," her mother replied. "He hasn't come down yet, so he's probably sleeping."

She had smiled and turned to go up the stairs, running her fingers through her tumbling black hair. She knew she should have straightened it; oh well, the curls were cute. Reaching the door, she knocked and called out teasingly, "Brother! You didn't forget, did you?"

When there came no response, she lightly pushed open the door, brow knitted with confusion. He never ignored anybody. "Brother?" she called.

Stepping inside, she had glanced around his room. Empty. She felt a twinge of something she couldn't quite place in the back of her heart. She began searching. He wasn't in his bed. He wasn't at his desk. He wasn't in the bathroom. The window was locked, so he couldn't have gone out through there. He wasn't under his bed. He wasn't behind the bookcase. As she searched, she grew more frantic, fear and confusion clouding her mind. Her breath had come fast, and her heart beat wildly. Did he leave in the middle of the night? Had he forgotten her? Had he abandoned her?

Her gaze fell on the old quilt he kept tacked to the wall. It had been made for him by their grandmother when she was alive. He kept it there because he felt that the design, a sunny forestscape, deserved to be presented like fine art. He felt the perfect place to hang it was directly across from his window, where the sun would light it up. However, his closet door was built across from the window, so he just hung it up over the door.

Tentatively, she approached the quilt and took it down from the wall. There loomed the door. It was a completely normal door, but something about it in that instance had filled her with a sense of dread. With sweat decorating her brow, she slowly turned the knob and opened the door. Her screams could be heard from a block away.

 

As her sobs quiet and die out, the pressure and pounding in her head decrease to a dull ache. She can hear her parents calling for her, but she doesn't respond. She doesn't want to be found just yet. She rests her head against the closet wall and lets her hands fall limp to her sides. A shiver runs through her as her hands brush against rope.

She recoils instinctively, as though it burned her. Bile rises in her throat at the memory of her brother hanging in this very closet, suspended by perhaps this very rope, discarded and forgotten. Emptiness and curiosity overcome her, and she reaches for the rope once more. It feels heavy and rough in her hands. It feels even rougher against the soft skin of her throat. She presses it against her trachea, feeling that yawning chasm of hopelessness grow deeper until she thinks it might swallow her up. Small rope fibers jab into her flesh, leaving little pinpricks in a perfect line. Her airway is constricting ever-so-slightly more, the pressure against her throat steadily increasing. She can't take the pain. She feels like she is going to explode. She closes her eyes. This is it. Just the smallest amount of air makes its way to her lungs. Her ribs ache from the pressure in her chest, ever-expanding. She's drowning, drowning in the feeling of hopelessness, helplessness. The last bit of air in her throat dissolves. Her skull is splitting with agony. She can't live with this guilt. She is being dragged down to hell, crushed by this never-ending darkness, trapped between worlds in this limbo. She can feel her demons clawing at her back, and she stays locked in that position for a minute, an hour, a year, an eternity. She lets her hands drop, though, the rope falling into her lap and leaving her feeling emptier than before. She can't even muster up enough energy to cry. Instead, she slides sideways until she's laying on the floor, staring vacantly into the darkness, seeing her brother's smile and hearing his laugh. He had lied. He abandoned her, and now she is all alone. 

Happy birthday.


End file.
